


An eye more bright than theirs

by Petra



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Hermaphrodites, Marriage Proposal, Other, Rules Lawyering, The pronouns are canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-13
Updated: 2008-08-13
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: Miles introduces the prospective Lady Vorkosigan to the current one, who finds Bel's attempts to walk in Barrayaran skirts lacking.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All [](http://carla-scribbles.livejournal.com/profile)[carla_scribbles](http://carla-scribbles.livejournal.com/)'s fault.

"Mother --" Miles swallowed hard and jerked his chin up in the nervous tic he hated, but couldn't always control. "This is Bel Thorne."

In the sweeping skirts and bolero required of a Vor lady -- and all the more stringently of a prospective one -- Bel passed without much comment unless it was on Miles's arm, at which point most of the comments focused straight on him, with gestures against the evil eye. Lady Vorkosigan's Betan eyes were more incisive, however, and she saw exactly what Miles expected her to see: the truth, and Miles's quick gesture of negation begging her to control her true response in front of the armsman who stood by the door. "Welcome to Vorkosigan House," she said, and inclined her head.

Bel's curtseys had improved markedly by the time the fast courier deposited it on Barrayar with Miles. That did not excuse its decision to bow, here, though Cordelia's laugh was all the forgiveness it or Miles could have wished. "I can't say that I'm pleased to be here, milady, but it is a pleasure to meet you."

"And you, gentle -- Bel." Cordelia cleared her throat and gestured to the armsman. "A word alone with you, Miles -- no, Bel," she raised her eyebrows. "Stay. Before you meet my husband, there are a few things we must discuss."

The door latched behind the armsman and Bel's ladylike demeanor melted like icecream in the summer sun, recongealing into an androgynous glee. "Captain Naismith --"

Cordelia held up her hands. "I haven't answered to that in years, and I don't intend to start for you. Cordelia, in private, if you must -- but first, I'm not so old that you can parade a herm in front of me without my noticing, skirts or no skirts, Miles. Just how do you expect to make this work?"

Miles looked from Bel's flushed cheeks to his mother's calculating expression and dug his toe in the priceless ancestral carpet. "A Vorkosigan must set an example," he ventured, faintly. "Lead from the front."

"You're going to explain this to him. Just like that, if you must."

Miles paled and clutched Bel's hand. "Just how badly do you think he'll take it?"

Cordelia smiled -- the sort of smile that showed up on vidcasts in the middle of Council of Counts negotiations when one side had all of the votes and the other was struggling pitifully. "That depends." She turned her smile on Bel. "Are you going to follow through with the archaic Barrayaran marriage rites? They involve public nudity."

Bel laughed, its rich chuckle ringing in Miles's ears like mocking music. "If it's necessary. I'm not shy -- Cordelia."

"You won't need to set a precedent in uterine replicators, at least." She looked at Miles and her smile fell for a moment before it became more genuine. "But first things first -- your father, Miles. And then your cousin."

Miles felt his cheeks heat as quickly as if he'd been hit with a plasma arc. "Ivan already suspects."

"No, not that idiot. Gregor."

"Oh." Miles swallowed hard and squeezed Bel's hand until it made a soft noise of protest. "Yes. He'll need to know."

"And Simon." Cordelia pursed her lips. "For once, I'm grateful your grandfather passed away when he did."

The thought of exactly how the old Count would've reacted to Bel Thorne's glorious, endlessly fascinating nakedness made Miles's head spin. "Yes," he said, weakly.

"I'll have a word with Aral first, so he knows you found some sort of paramour."

Bel cleared its throat. "I wouldn't be on this benighted planet if I were only that."

Cordelia's stance relaxed slightly, and she put her hands on its shoulders and kissed its cheeks. "You smitten, foolish herm. We'll do what we can." She squeezed Miles's shoulder roughly. "But -- granted. I'll tell your father to come and meet your fiancé, and let you wrangle over the pronouns." She gave him a look that said she knew precisely how long he had deliberated over the decision to propose this mad course of action to Bel in the first place, then swept out of the room with her own brand of faux-Barrayaran femininity. Bel had a lot to learn in that department if it wanted to pursue that angle.

Miles sat down heavily in a chair and Bel sat on the arm. "Tell me again why we're here?" Miles tried to smile and managed, in his own estimation, to look thoroughly miserable.

"Your sense of duty, Admiral." Bel kissed him. "And my tendency to follow people who look like they know where they're going and know how to get there."

"Right. Yes. That." Miles sighed. "The next time I have a bright idea like this one, hit me over the head and drag me back to the Dendarii."

"Aye-aye, sir."


End file.
